Tagged: poem

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The Lock

          The Lock Every evening I brush one damp curl from my baby’s forehead And in its place leave a long, mama kiss My sweet strawberry of a boy is...

Gustave Le Gray (photographer) [French, 1820 - 1884] from the J. Paul Getty Museum 8

Poetry Sundays: Short Roots

2014 was a tough year for many Mormon feminists. While there were some great positive changes in the Church, for me, they did not outweigh the hard truths I’ve witnessed.  I’ve found comfort in...

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Poetry Sundays: Elizabeth Bishop

One Art The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster...

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Grape Hyacinth

Small blue bottle on a shelf in the kitchen holds one grape hyacinth I plucked from a neighbor’s lawn. Each day I watch the tiny thing die. This is what I do when I...

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Information overwhelm

by Brooke Exercise in Draining I am training to squeeze (absorb?) information from where it is plenty or scarce. Sometimes it will build up so that I almost burst and I would for certain...

photo by Linda Hoffman Kimball 16

Initiatories and ICHP

Initiatories and ICHP* *Intra-Perioneal Hyperthermic Chemotherapy I spend Friday mornings in the temple whispering in white, calling down the powers of Heaven to cleanse and prepare women for the bounty God has eternally in...

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Circle soap

A plain looking thing fat disk of oil and lye forced to sit and cure becoming something permanent it may not have chosen for itself but holding it between my palms feels right subtle...